“This is not the time for a debate,” General Pollack said. “Guns have proven their effectiveness.”
“So have arrows,” Lord Oswald said. “My men can stop a charging horde of orcs.”
“Unless there are so many that they just keep going, climbing over their own bodies, to get you,” Sir Roger said. “Cannons will tear any number of orcs to shreds.”
Emily frowned. She hadn’t known that much about guns, back when she’d been on Earth, but she’d learned a great deal in the years since. The muskets didn’t have the stopping power of modern rifles, let alone machine guns. Lord Oswald’s horde of orcs might just keep going, charging right at the musketeers. The Light Brigade had made its suicidal charge against far more capable enemies. She had the feeling that Sir Roger was being wildly optimistic.
And he was still on his knees. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” she said, indicating that he should rise. She’d have to read what Alassa had said about him in more detail. “I look forward to seeing your men in action.”
“I’ll arrange a demonstration for tomorrow,” Sir Roger promised her.
General Pollack cleared his throat, loudly. “Can you spare the powder?”
“We brought a vast supply,” Sir Roger said.
“Very good,” General Pollack said. He looked past Emily. She turned to see a pasty-faced man standing at the rear of the tent. “Sir Albright, my aide. He speaks with my voice.”
Emily followed him over to the large table. A map was open in front of them, showing Tarsier and the Desert of Death. Someone had drawn arrows on the map, indicating the enemy army’s passage into the kingdom. Dozens of towns and villages had been overrun, it seemed; hundreds more were under threat. A small heart, a dozen miles into the desert, marked Heart’s Eye. Dua Kepala made his home there.
It isn’t that far from the kingdom, Emily noted. He could have prepared his army there and then crossed the remaining desert.
“We are here,” General Pollack said. He tapped the map, indicating a position further into the kingdom. Emily leaned forward, surprised. She’d assumed they were much closer to the desert. “Once our remaining units arrive, we will advance southwards and take up position to engage the enemy. Ideally, we will be able to reach Farrakhan—” he tapped a city, roughly twenty miles to the south “—before the enemy. If so, we will turn it into a fortress.”
“A free city,” Lord Alcott muttered. “Will they fight?”
“They have no choice,” General Pollack pointed out. “The necromancer will not leave them in peace.”
“And their city is already heavily fortified,” Sir Roger added. He shot Emily an unreadable glance. “We can enhance their defenses.”
Emily nodded, slowly. Reading between the lines, she rather suspected that Farrakhan had fortified itself against the king, not the necromancers. Most free cities tended to be in easily defensible places — no outside army had ever succeeded in taking Beneficence — but Farrakhan was vulnerable. If nothing else, an outside army could probably lay siege to the city, devastating the surrounding fields and starving the population. She wondered, absently, why the king hadn’t taken control of the city. Perhaps a deal had been made, back in the past ...
“The surrounding land is already being stripped of everything an army can use,” General Pollack said. “Most of the peasants are being told to leave. The necromancer cannot hope to keep his army going without food.”
“An army marches on its stomach,” Emily quoted to herself.
“Very witty,” Sir Roger said. Emily felt herself flush. He sounded as though he genuinely meant it. “Orcs need vast supplies of food to keep them going.”
“But they also eat everything,” Lord Alcott snapped. “They’ll be eating the dead, after the necromancer has his fun.”
Emily shuddered. The average peasant wouldn’t notice any real difference if one king was overthrown and replaced with another — they’d still be trapped in the fields, trying to eke out a bare existence — but the necromancer would see them as nothing more than a source of power for his magic. He’d round them up for sacrifice, then feed the bodies to his army.
“He’ll have to keep going,” she said, out loud. “He’ll run out of victims to sacrifice.”
“Quite,” General Pollack said. “And that is another reason to move to Farrakhan. The city represents the largest source of power.”
Of lives, Emily thought, numbly.
“The city cannot be held,” Lord Fulbright said. “Pinning our forces down will not save the kingdom.”
General Pollack scowled at him. “And what do you suggest?”
“We harry the invaders,” Lord Fulbright said. His fingers traced out lines on the map. “Let us starve them, without a direct confrontation.”
“Very good,” Lord Alcott sneered. “A truly brilliant plan. A tactic worthy of Tacitus himself.”
Emily’s eyes widened. Tacitus?
Lord Alcott’s voice hardened. “Except, of course, for the minor detail of us being unable to move a whole city,” he added. “Farrakhan must be held. The necromancer must not be allowed to claim so many lives or there’ll be no stopping him.”
“We evacuate Farrakhan,” Lord Fulbright said.
Lord Alcott’s voice dripped contempt. “There are over thirty thousand people behind the walls,” he pointed out. “We force them to leave ... they’ll be strung out on the roads, vulnerable to enemy raiding columns. Not to mention we’d be giving up our best chance to impale them on our defenses.”
“Starving them isn’t an option,” Lord Oswald said. “Orcs eat everything.”
General Pollack tapped the table. “There is nothing to be gained from fighting each other,” he said, firmly. “The only person who benefits is the enemy.”
You can’t fight in here, Emily thought, wryly. This is the war room.
She kept that thought to herself as she studied the commanders. Lord Fulbright seemed quietly furious, although she wasn’t sure why. The Master of Horse would command the cavalry, she was sure. Did he want a bigger role for his men? The cavalry wouldn’t be that effective in cramped streets. She’d heard the horror stories from Swanhaven. Men on horseback, surrounded by peasants and commoners, dragged down and brutally tortured to death. And Lord Alcott ... it sounded, very much, as though Lord Alcott and Lord Fulbright were bitter enemies. Were they expected to work together?
Of course, she told herself. There’s a war on.
“Our best chance to stop the enemy lies in securing and holding Farrakhan,” General Pollack said. “The surrounding countryside will be stripped bare within weeks. They will have to attack the walls.”
“And what happens,” Lord Fulbright asked, “when the necromancer himself comes out to play?”
“Necromancers have been killed before,” Sergeant Miles said, quietly.
Lord Fulbright eyed Emily. “Can you defeat a third necromancer?”
“Yes,” she said, simply.
But she honestly didn’t know. Whitehall had been strongly warded. She didn’t need to know the exact details to understand that Farrakhan’s defenses were flimsy in comparison. There was no nexus point, no source of vast — and untainted — power. Shadye had been practically invulnerable. A necromancer could smash his way through the defenses, then send his army through the gap to finish the job.
And yet, she needed to show confidence.
There were options, she knew. She — and the other magicians — could lure the necromancer into a trap, forcing him to drain his own power just to survive. Or the necromancer could be poisoned, if he hadn’t already passed beyond the limits of humanity. Or ... she thought about the nuke-spell and shuddered. Maybe, just maybe, she could lead the necromancer back into the desert and use the nuke-spell to kill him. If she was lucky, no one would be close enough to see what she’d done.
Lord Fulbright didn’t seem impressed. Emily wondered just what he saw, when he looked at her. A schoolgirl, still too young to be a proper apprentice? A
noblewoman, too isolated from the real world to understand it? A sorceress, too powerful to be trusted? Or the Necromancer’s Bane.
“Baroness Cockatrice has killed two necromancers,” Sir Roger said. He shot Emily an admiring look that made her feel uncomfortable. “And those are not even the greatest of her feats.”
“We shall see,” Lord Fulbright said. He looked at Emily. “It would be my very great honor to invite you and your fellow apprentices to dine with my staff, this evening.”
Emily thought, fast. It wasn’t exactly a request, no matter how it was phrased. Declining the invitation would be a grave insult. There was no way to get out of it, not unless General Pollack was prepared to offer an invitation of his own ... which he couldn’t, because Lord Fulbright had issued his invitation in front of the entire council.
“If my master has no objection,” Emily said, finally, “it will be our honor to attend.”
Sergeant Miles looked expressionless, but she could see a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “I have no plans for you tonight,” he said, gravely. “But I suggest you check with your fellow apprentices before committing them to anything.”
“They’ll be delighted,” General Pollack predicted. His voice was unreadable. “Lord Fulbright sets a very good table.”
He glanced at the messenger. “Inform the other apprentices that Lord Fulbright has invited them for dinner,” he ordered. “The apprentice on night duty will not be able to attend, of course, but the others should be free. Unless their masters have plans for them too.”
“Yes, sir,” the messenger said.
General Pollack smiled at Emily. “We’ll talk more later,” he said, softly. “Until then, go find the apprentice tent and get yourself settled in.”
“Don’t unpack too much,” Sergeant Miles added. “We’ll be moving out soon.”
“Yes, Master,” Emily said.
She concealed her amusement as she watched the reactions running around the room. Lord Alcott seemed impressed; Lord Fulbright gave Sergeant Miles an odd look, respect mingled with relief. And Sir Roger seemed torn between taking offense on Emily’s behalf and outright hero worship. Emily resisted, barely, the urge to rub her forehead. She couldn’t help feeling that there was going to be trouble in the future.
Of course there is, she thought, sourly. This bunch hates each other more than they hate the enemy.
She bowed to General Pollack, then turned and made her way out of the tent. The heat struck her like a physical blow, the sun so bright that she had to cover her eyes until they grew accustomed to the light. Cat was waiting for her, leaning on a staff. There was no sign of his master.
“I’m to show you to the tent,” he said, cheerfully. “Coming?”
“Of course,” Emily said. She cast a privacy ward as they slipped away from the command tent. “Is it always this disorganized?”
“Probably,” Cat said. He winked at her as they passed a couple of women. Emily couldn’t help thinking that they didn’t look like either whores or washerwomen. “But things will shape up when we go to war.”
Emily frowned. “Are you sure?”
“I hope so,” Cat said. “Because if they don’t ... we’ll all wind up dead. And that will be the end.”
Of everything, Emily finished.
Chapter Nine
“THIS IS OUR PART OF THE camp,” Cat told her, as they passed through a set of wards. “Don’t invite anyone who isn’t either a magician or part of the command staff to visit.”
Emily glanced at him. “We don’t host dinners?”
“We don’t have the staff,” Cat said. He waved a hand towards two tents. “Guess which one is ours?”
Emily had to smile. Both tents were large, but one looked new while the other was a little threadbare. “That one,” she said, pointing to the second tent. “The masters get the new tent.”
“Quite right,” Cat agreed. He smiled as they reached the flap. “Apparently, it’s meant to keep us humble.”
The interior of the tent was surprisingly roomy, Emily discovered as they stepped inside. A line of bedrolls lay on the ground, illuminated by a single light globe floating overhead; a small collection of bags and knapsacks were leaning against the canvas. She suppressed a shudder as she saw the chamberpots, knowing what they meant. There were no proper toilets in the camp. God alone knew what the common soldiers had to do.
There were three young men in the tent, two bent over a book while the third lay on his bedding. They looked up at her as she entered, staring at her in surprise. Emily realized, to her astonishment, that she knew one of them. Casper, Caleb’s older brother. She couldn’t help thinking that he looked more like a younger version of his father than ever. Caleb hadn’t warned her Casper would be there; his father hadn’t warned her Casper would be there ...
He’s still an apprentice, Emily realized, astonished. How long had Casper been an apprentice? Jade had graduated in barely a year. What is he doing here?
“Emily,” Casper said. He rose and bowed to her, just enough to avoid outright insult. “Come to help us win glory and crush the bastards?”
Emily gritted her teeth at his mocking tone. She was meant to share a tent with him? It certainly looked that way. Sergeant Miles had warned her she wouldn’t be allowed a tent of her own, nor would she be allowed to share with him. Combat sorceresses were held to the same standards as combat sorcerers. No one went easy on them because they were girls.
“I’ve come to help,” she said, flatly. She’d always had the impression Casper didn’t like her, although she had no idea why. Perhaps he just hated the idea of Caleb getting married before his elder brother. “If there’s something I can do to help, I’ll do it.”
“I know what you can do to help,” Casper’s friend said. “I have a ...”
The third apprentice kicked him, none too gently. “Be quiet,” he said, firmly. “You don’t want to pick a fight with her.”
Emily blinked. “Gaius?”
“Apprentice Gaius of House Arlene,” Gaius said. He rose, smiling. “I’m flattered you remember me.”
Emily had to fight to keep her face expressionless. Gaius had been on the verge of marrying Melissa — an arranged marriage, of course — when Melissa had abandoned her family and eloped with Markus. Gaius had fought Markus — he’d also attacked Emily — and both families had been on the verge of going to war before Emily had managed to stop them. The batteries, buried at the bottom of her knapsack, were a grim reminder she’d cheated. She still didn’t know if the families believed she’d stopped them on her own or not.
“I couldn’t forget,” she said, finally.
“You saved me from being tethered to an old crone,” Gaius told her. “Fulvia ... would have used me, I am sure.”
Emily nodded. Fulvia had vanished, according to Melissa. No one knew where she’d gone or what she might be planning. Emily knew that Fulvia had sent Master Grey after Emily, but she hadn’t seen the old woman in person since that final night in Cockatrice. And yet, she had a nasty feeling she’d see Fulvia again.
“You said she broke up the match,” Casper said. He snorted, rudely. “Or have you changed your mind?”
“It was humiliating,” Gaius admitted. “But I have come to believe that it was for the best.”
He held out a hand to Emily. “I want to thank you,” he added. “You did me a vast favor.”
Emily took his hand and shook it, firmly. She hadn’t liked Gaius when she’d met him two years ago, but she had to admit she preferred the new version. Fulvia and his parents were no longer peering over his shoulder, urging him to marry Melissa and serve the Ashworth Family. Gaius might not even have survived, once he’d sired an heir. Fulvia hadn’t wanted any challenges to her power.
“Ending a marriage, disgracing you ...” Casper sneered. “Are you still part of your family?”
“Of course,” Gaius said. “Officially, it was Melissa’s fault.”
“Of course,” Emily murmured.
&nbs
p; “She did choose to leave,” Gaius said. He shrugged, then nodded to the remaining apprentice. “This is Apprentice Sawford of No House. He was at Stronghold, so I’m afraid his social graces are lacking.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my social graces,” Casper said, quickly.
Emily frowned, then remembered that Casper had been to Stronghold too. He’d done well there, although Caleb had suggested that General Pollack — an old boy — had quietly smoothed his son’s path. Emily doubted General Pollack was the type, but she had to admit it was possible. And yet, he would have done Casper no favors if he had.
Sawford rose to his feet. He was the same height as Emily, with dark skin and darker eyes that reminded her of Aloha. His body was muscular, but scarred in a manner that suggested he was of common blood. Any magical or aristocratic family would have removed the scars long ago. Unless they were a token of honor ... she’d known several boys who’d kept their scars, just to show that they’d been wounded. She’d always considered that to be silly, herself.
“Lady Emily,” he said. His eyes lingered on her chest for a long moment. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
I stopped Robin, Emily thought. I can stop you too, if necessary.
“A pleasure to meet you too,” she lied. She shook his hand, feeling the magic curling around him. Common-born or not, Sawford was a capable magician. “I hope we can work together.”
She glanced at Casper. If they had to work together — and she was sure they would have to work together — they should try to get along. “What have you been doing here?”
“Preparing for war,” Casper said. “Leading men, training with swords, fighting with knives ...”
“Brewing potions, doing as we’re told,” Cat added, dryly. “Our masters have been keeping us busy.”
“I did go out on patrol,” Casper said. “We galloped up to the borderlands and back.”
“You didn’t see anything,” Gaius said. He sneered. “Did you?”
11- The Sergeant's Apprentice Page 9
